


Wanderers Travel (Rewrite)

by KennatasticWrites



Category: Phandom
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/F, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24824152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennatasticWrites/pseuds/KennatasticWrites
Summary: After the death of your father, you take his position in the mission he was doing. The mission is to protect two men, Daniel Howell and Philip Lester, who are next on the list of likely targets. Part of your mission is to figure out who it is and why they are targeting and killing youtubers but you discover secrets and lies that were once tied to your father making you wonder if you really knew him at all. Can you handle the mission? Or will you fail?
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Reader/orginal character - Relationship
Kudos: 1





	1. Introduction Note

Hello! This is the rewrite of a original fanfic I created back in 2016, if you would like to experience it for the first time or maybe the second, here’s the link -> Wanderers Travel  
It feels good to write again! :D  
Chapter Release Dates  
Chapter One- June 20, 2020  
Chapter Two- June 26, 2020  
Chapter Three- July 3, 2020  
Keep in mind that these are estimated dates. I try to update every Friday, but if I can't, well I can't.


	2. Chapter One- Polyester Sweater

The coffee you were drinking was cold and tasted thick, it certainly didn’t taste pleasant, even the sight of the security guard stationed approximately twenty five feet outside of the office building made your stomach uneasy. As you approached the security guard, your hand clutched tightly onto the briefcase and around the cup of coffee, nerves making you jittery. You came to a halt as Jared, the sixty eight year old man you grew up greeting every morning since you could remember, looked in your direction and gave you a kind smile. His cheeks raised and the corners of his eyes formed crows feet. You returned his smile but you couldn’t help but feel like it came out more of a grimace. 

“Good morning, Miss Y/n,” Jared said as your feet continued on to approaching him without you even having to think about it too much. Between your fingers that held the cup of coffee was your ID. You held your hand out to him, offering him easy access to retrieve your ID but he shook his head and gave you another smile; this time, his teeth showed. “Nah, I don’t need this one anymore, Mr. Richard told me that Susan has your new one, he said something about you running out too soon and not having time to give you your proper ID.” You grimaced at that and watched as Jared opened his mouth to probably question about your sudden departure the previous day but you cut him off before he could even get the words out. 

“Neat,” You state, a smile spreading across your face but not quite reaching your eyes, “I’ll be sure to stop by and get that. I’ll see you later Mr. Gates.” His smile suddenly turned to a frown at the proper name. You began walking past him and didn’t bother looking over your shoulder as he said, “I told ya kid that we don’t have to be proper now that we’re coworkers.” 

“And I told you that I’m still going to call you Mr. Gates because it's polite and nothing changed between us since my employment.” 

“You’re just like your father, kid.” At that sentence, you felt your heart skip a beat but yet your feet continued on. You wanted to turn around and walk past Jared, back through the gates and through the busy streets and back to your small apartment; you wanted to be curled up in your sheets and the curtains closed, you wanted to be alone and pretend that you didn’t exist; but you carried on, only changing your saddened expression to a happy one as you got closer to the building. It towered over you, from the top to the bottom of the building, glass windows surrounded the entire structure, it was chosen so it wouldn't make the workers and guests feel like they’re enclosed. You pushed open the glass doors and raised your coffee mid-air as a way to greet Susan. 

“Y/n!” Susan greeted, strands of her blond hair fell in front of her eyes and she fustrantingly pushed it back behind her ear. Her curly blond hair was in a tight bun today than her usual high ponytail which was a striking difference, her green eyes stood out more with the morning sun and her pink, plump lips against her pale skin. Her new look made her way more prettier than normal. 

“Ms. Doyle,” You greet, placing your half empty cup on the counter and leaning forward, “You’re looking really nice today, what’s the special occasion?” As you wait for her answer, you rack your brain for a national holiday that you could have forgotten about.  _ Not Christmas or New Years, definitely not Halloween. Fuck, is today her birthday? Were you too wrapped up in your anxiety from the last few weeks that you completely forgot about her birthday? _ You could feel an apology forming at your lips while you internally beat yourself up despite not being given an answer. 

“No, I just felt like trying something different,” She stated, the apology was swallowed up as your eyes narrowed at the sparkle on Susans lips.  _ Wait, is Susan wearing lipgloss?  _ Your eyes narrowed towards her lips, another sparkle as she slightly opened her mouth.

“You’re wearing lip gloss,” You state, tilting your head to the side as your eyes traveled to her own green ones. 

“I am.”

“You never wear lip gloss.”

“I told you I wanted to try something different-”

“Good morning Y/n, good morning Susan,” the conversation was cut off by Mr. Richard's voice echoing in the room you were in. His brown and greying hair was combed to the side as he carried his own briefcase as passed by Susans desk, his dark brown eyes raked Susans new look and a smile formed on his face but he didn’t stop walking in the direction of the elevators, instead, he said over his shoulder, “Y/n, conference room at nine am, alright?”

“Yes, sir.” You state, his steps faltered for a moment at your words, he glanced over his shoulder with a slightly surprised look but he didn’t comment on your politeness. Once he entered the elevators and the doors closed, you turned back to Susan. 

“‘ _ Try something different, _ ’ my ass,” you glance at the clock above Susans head and grab your coffee off of the counter at the sight of the time. Three minutes until your meeting with Mr. Richards and whoever else was going to be there. “My ID please.” Susan rolls her eyes and hands you your card. “I know you’re a grown woman and you make your own choices, but really, you like Mr. Richards?”

“His name is Ben and he is a very kind man.” 

“Ew, you call him by his first name?” You say, backing up slowly and watching as Susan, once again, rolls her eyes. She stands up and places her hands on her hips in a motherly fashion.

“You’re going to be late, Y/n, better make a good first impression on your new boss.” it was your turn to roll your eyes. 

“You and me,” You point to yourself and Susan with your already busy hand holding the coffee, “we’re having this conversation later, it’s going to be about your horrible choice in men.” 

“And don’t forget that we’re going to go over your need to judge people for who they like.” Susan replies, you pretend to gag before turning around and speed walking towards the elevator, tossing your cold coffee into the trashcan on the way. Upon entering the metal box, your finger presses against the seventh floor button repeatedly as if pressing it multiple times would make the elevator speed up. You step away from the controls once the door closes and impatiently wait as you rise towards the correct floor. 

_ For the first time since you first arrived this morning you were alone. _ A lump rose in your throat at the realization and tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over, but the thoughts did not stop. _ You were alone in the same building your father once worked in. You were alone in the building your father once walked you through when you were younger, his hand gently held yours as he introduced you to his coworkers.  _ Your hand clutched tightly around the handle of the brief-case.  _ Distantly, you could hear your apartment phone ringing, your footsteps hitting the wooden floor as you approached it. A sinking feeling in your stomach, you weren’t expecting any calls.  _ The dinging of the elevator snapped your thoughts and you blinked away the water in your eyes. 

You stepped out of the elevator and headed straight towards the woman restrooms, pushing past several men in business suits and ignoring the calls of your name coming from Mr. Richard. Pushing open the door and making sure it fully shut behind you, you dropped your bag and stumbled towards the sinks, placing your hands upon the pink counter. You stared down at the porcelain sink and willed the tears to stop and the sobs to stay behind the lump in your throat. You didn’t look up as you heard the bathroom door open and shut, nor did you look up when you heard the clicking of heels against the tiled floor or when you saw the red heels and the dark skinned feet resting in them.  _ Molly _ , you thought as you felt her hand rest gently against your back and begin to rub small circles. Your eyes squeezed shut and your shaking hands curled into fists. 

“Y/n,” Molly said, her voice was strong yet gentle, almost like she was seeing a bird with a broken wing and she was trying to calm the frantic animal. “The last time I saw you was a few weeks ago,” before the tests you took to get to this position. The last time you saw Molly was just after the funeral and you were in your apartment, curled up in bed wearing- “you’re still wearing that holey sweater I told you that you should get rid of.” If you could have squeezed your eyes tighter, you would’ve. 

“It already had holes, it was part of the design, besides I thought the dress code was comfortable, I’m comfortable.” You manage to say, only cracking your voice once throughout the sentence. You imagine Molly smirking slightly but still looking serious. 

“Yes, but not bigger holes formed from the smaller ones, and the dress-code is professional  _ and _ comfortable, how did you even miss that? You went here since you were- what- six?” Her voice trails off at her question, you didn’t even want to think about how long you visited here, you don’t answer and Molly got the hint, “How old is that polyester sweater?”

“I don’t know, maybe four years?”

“Well, how about you throw out that sweater and I buy you a new one?” You don’t answer as you stand up and look at your spotty, red face in the mirror. Your father bought this sweater for you on your trip to Maine, you felt the lump in your throat and the tears threatening to come back, quickly, you dismiss the memory of the trip forming in your mind. Molly stood behind you with her arms crossed, her dark red dress was a nice choice for her complexion, the silver chain around her neck stood out against the color. 

“You got a haircut,” You say instead of answering her question, her black hair reached her shoulders and for the first time since you ever saw her a little over a decade ago, she had bangs that reached just above her eyebrows.

“I did, I needed a change.” She answered, you looked away from the mirror and turned towards her, suddenly a memory of your father commenting on her hair popped into your mind,  _ it was a bright sunny day and you were- _ quickly, you shut the door to that thought and found that you couldn't speak, instead you looked down at a loose thread on your sleeve and twirled it between your fingers. Trying to stifle the emotions boiling inside of you, you take a deep breath and slowly exhale it. Inside of you, you felt like you were panicking but on the outside you just looked really interested in that single piece of thread. 

After a long moment of silence, one that you weren’t sure exactly how much time passed, you say, “Dad liked your long hair.” You heard a gentle intake of breath from the woman and wasn’t that surprised when Molly avoided the comment. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Fine, I mean I could have slept better but y’know...” You didn’t have to say that you felt anxious arriving here for the first time without your father by your side, Molly felt the same way when she returned to work a month ago. 

“How do you feel emotionally and mentally, I know you’re in a tough place right now and-”

“I’ll be fine,” You cut her off, “what about that meeting, huh?” You glanced into the mirror, double checking to see if everything was proper, before picking up your briefcase and walking towards the door. 

“Y/n L/n!” Molly yelling out your full name stopped you in your tracks, “you’re just like your father when it comes to emotional stuff. He never wanted to acknowledge it either.” She took a deep breath and stared at you with serious, yet calm eyes. “I know that you had to talk to a psychiatrist to get this position and that means that you’re mentally stable but,” Another deep breath, her eyes closed gently and on her exhale she opened her eyes, she had a worried look in them. “If you ever need to talk to someone- it doesn’t need to be professional- I’m here. We can eat chocolate chip ice cream out of the pint and cry together.” You open and close your mouth a few times before finally replying. 

“Thanks, but, uh, chocolate chip was my dad's favorite, not mine.” 

“What’s your favorite then?”

“Cookie dough.” 

“Then we’ll eat cookie dough and cry,” Molly pauses, she eyes you skeptically as she opens her mouth again, “have you…cried?” The question threw you off track.  _ Have you cried, are you fucking kiddng me? Of course you have! You laid in bed and clutched a pillow to your chest and the feeling of sadness welled up inside of you like a boiling pot of water about to overflow and-  _ your thoughts stopped in their tracks, feeling like you’ve done a one-eighty and got a whiplash along with it. No, you haven’t cried, you always come close to it but you haven’t actually let the tears fall. Despite the funeral and laying your father's body to rest next to your mothers, you felt like if you cried your fathers death would be real; a small part of you pretends he’s on a mission and he can’t call you or message you because it isn’t safe for him to do so. No tears, just uncomfortable lumps in your throat and tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Yeah,” You lie, nodding along with it as if you’re convincing yourself, “I have,” You pause, you didn’t know if you should try convincing her more or just bite your tongue. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of you before you finally said, “we better get to that meeting, huh?” You smile at Molly and for a split second, she hesitates on letting you out of that question, but after a moment she opens the bathroom door and holds it for you. Without thinking about it, you walk out of the restroom and down the hall to the conference room. Molly walked quietly behind you, you could feel her eyes burning into the back of your head. Once you reached the door, you peaked through the crack of it. 

A group of men and women in professional clothing were chatting with one another while sitting at a long, mahogany table. Mr. Richard stood at the head of the table and was making polite conversation with a grey haired man in a black business suit, despite the look of interest on Richard's face, he kept nervously glancing at the door and checking his watch. You pulled out your phone from the pocket of your black jeans, at the sight of the time you felt your heart skip a beat, you knew that you were going to be late but you didn’t expect to be fifteen minutes late past the scheduled conference time. Talking to Molly must have really passed the time in that small restroom. Stuffing your phone back into your pocket and taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you glanced at Molly; her brown eyes gleamed with support and with a small nod of determination from her, you felt confident in pushing open the door. 

Word Count- 2,663


End file.
